


Country Magic #15 - Where Are You, Christmas?

by olivejuice28



Series: Country Magic [15]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Coping, EWE, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, HEA, Post Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:02:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27818701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olivejuice28/pseuds/olivejuice28
Summary: Based off the song "Where Are You, Christmas?" by Faith Hill. Hermione struggles to find meaning in life after the war, and finds hope in a most unlikely source.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Series: Country Magic [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1518281
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	Country Magic #15 - Where Are You, Christmas?

**Country Magic #15**

**Where Are You Christmas? ~ By Faith Hill**

A fleeting moment. That was all it had been. A handful of seconds, a chance encounter, the briefest of connections.

But it had been enough.

Enough to haunt her for years to come. Enough to tug at the corners of her heart and mind more than she would ever admit, even to herself. Enough to unravel the carefully-crafted peace and pretense that had been the fabric of her life up until that point. Enough to make her realize it _wasn’t_ enough.

It had been snowing for two days straight; the kind of big, fluffy flakes that blanketed every non-moving surface in a matter of minutes. Hardly anyone was out and about, but there was a quiet calm to it that beckoned to her soul. She found herself strolling through Covent Garden one night, several days before Christmas, with nowhere in particular to be. The war had ended seven months before, and like many of her peers, she was trying to adapt to life in a world that was still reeling, still healing, and still attempting to put itself back together, much like its young inhabitants.

She had taken a job – one of many offered – at the Ministry, and told herself every day that she should be thankful for the steady routine and forward momentum it provided. The public appearances and requests for her presence had dwindled in recent months, but now that the holidays were upon them, a resurgence of desire for the Golden Trio to be on display had taken place. She dressed up and showed up and smiled and said all the pretty, placating things, and no one ever seemed to notice the vice-like grip she had on Ron or Harry’s arm. No one saw the lines of tension around her eyes, or the way her jaw was permanently clenched, or how forced it all seemed. She left those events feeling emptier and more adrift than ever.

When Ron asked her to move in, of course she agreed, because how could she not without raising a million questions she didn’t have answers to? They got along fine, but neither wanted to address the fact that they were basically glorified roommates. Roommates who woke one another from the thrashing throes of yet another nightmare. Roommates who made steaming cups of tea and sat together in the darkened room, trying to breathe normally again. Roommates who didn’t need words to interpret a pained look, a shaking hand, a burst of accidental magic, or a wand pointed at them when the other was startled.

It might have been familiar, but it was exhausting.

So, as she wandered through the lighted pathways, glancing at the colorful, holiday displays, she wondered if this was all there was. If this was truly the life she was destined to live, after everything she had endured and done and achieved at such a young age. Was this broken and barely-keeping-it-together existence _it_? She paused to look at all the decorations, a sight that should have filled her with joy, should have brought a smile to her face. Christmas was her favorite time of year, after all. Or at least it used to be.

In this moment, though, she could barely muster an appreciative, non-grimace and a heavy sigh. There was nothing left inside of her – nothing that wasn’t weighed down by the memories of battle, or darkened by the terror that had colored her life for months on end.

Even in winning, there was so much still lost.

She was restless and hollow, and no matter how many dinners she sat through around the crowded Burrow’s table, or how many Friday nights she endured the loud, busy pub with her friends, or even the countless, small, considerate gestures Ron enacted on a daily basis, it never changed. She was quite certain that if it were possible to view a person’s soul, hers would look like a barren wasteland. Her smiles were always tight, her eyes always dull, and conversation was always strained. She wasn’t sure if she was so good at hiding it, that none of those closest to her had noticed, or if they were just so deeply mired in their own layers of trauma that they couldn’t recognize the reflection of their own struggle in front of them.

Her feet kicked up glittery clouds of snow as she made her way to the middle of the park. Even from here she could glimpse the centerpiece of the festivities, massive as it was. Her brain registered that it was beautiful, but her heart couldn’t muster the inclination to care. Her eyes prickled as tears formed, her melancholy increasing as she pleaded silently for unknown, unseen entities to help in some way – to bring back some of the purpose and fulfillment she used to know. Maybe that would be her Christmas wish, though she knew it was a childish notion, but perhaps this season of miracles could manage one for her. She drew closer to her destination, which was now somehow directly connected to her fanciful idea.

That was when she saw him.

Standing mere feet away, his focus entirely on the gigantic Christmas tree in the center of the green, hands in his pockets, head tilted up to see all the way to the top… Draco Malfoy. She’d recognize his white-blonde hair anywhere, but even without that trademark, his tall, lithe figure was noticeable. She felt as if the air had been knocked from her lungs as her brain tried to catch up with what her eyes were taking in. She knew he’d been acquitted, but she hadn’t seen him since his trial in June. She’d assumed he’d either holed up in the Manor, or had fled the country like his mother after her own conviction had been overturned. At the very least, she never thought she’d run into him in Muggle London.

As if by their own volition, her feet carried her in his direction, coming to a stop an arm’s length away. She wasn’t sure if he’d noticed her, or registered who she was, and was trying to decide if she should say anything or just turn tail and run, when he made the choice for her.

“It’s magnificent, isn’t it?” he asked quietly, his eyes never leaving the towering fir tree.

“Yes,” she breathed, forcing herself to look back at the festive symbol.

“I’d never seen one before,” he admitted, still focused on the branches in front of him. She knew he meant a Muggle tree; one with lights or tinsel or drug-store baubles. She didn’t know how to respond, lest he think she was making fun of his lack of experience with non-magical things, though nothing would have been farther from the truth. The fact that he was enjoying the view was enough to keep any sort of snide remark from forming on her lips; instead, she felt a surge of warmth coil inside her chest.

He turned to her then, his slate-grey eyes meeting her whiskey-brown ones with piercing intensity. She felt frozen in place by it, and not because it was truly frigid outside; no, she felt like she couldn’t have moved even if she wanted to, or needed to. She was transfixed by his expression – one of open sincerity and… and curiosity. The longer she stood there, the more emotions she saw flicker across his face and realized with a start that it might very well have been the first time she’d ever seen him without his arrogant smirk or his condescending sneer. He looked younger, healthier, and even, _dare she think it_ , friendlier than she’d seen him in recent years, and there was something else to his visage.

Hopefulness.

Needing to bring some sort of normalcy to the situation, she did what she did best and asked a question, “What brought you here?” Her tone was light, and her head cocked to one side as she made her inquiry, truly wanting to know, and he seemed to take it as such.

“I was told the gardens had one of the best displays, so I wanted to see it,” he shrugged and gave a small, shy smile. “I’ve been doing a lot of things… learning a lot of things… since…” his words faded as he looked at the ground, the toe of his boot digging in the freshly-fallen snow. She knew what he meant, and admired him for it. That thought hit her like a stunner and her breath felt like it got caught halfway up her throat.

_She admired him?_

Before she could wrap her formidable brain around that bombshell, he had stepped closer to her and was watching her again, almost as if he was afraid she’d run screaming for the hills. She didn’t, not that the thought even crossed her mind, but simply watched him, marveling at the changes she continued to observe in his countenance and demeanor.

“I need to tell you how sorry I am,” his voice was quiet and low, but not unsteady, “For everything. For the way I treated you, the things I said, for believing any of that rot to be true in the first place. I’m sorry for not helping you, sorry for being too blind and too afraid and too worried about myself.” He shook his head and his gaze drifted back down to the mere inches between them, “I don’t expect you to accept it, at least not right now, but I wanted you to know. I’m working on it… all of it… trying to change. It’s easier than I’d anticipated.” He gave a small, self-depreciating chuckle, “Then again, it’s not hard to change what you already despise, I suppose.”

Her eyes widened at that and she felt a combination of overwhelming emotions rise within her: grief, happiness, hope, remorse, elation, anger. Her vision blurred with unshed tears but she kept her focus on the pale shape that was his face.

“I forgive you,” she choked out in a whisper, “I forgave you a long time ago. It was never your fault, any of it.” She blinked and a few tears escaped down her cheeks, clearing her view of him as he stared at her with something like awe. Neither spoke for several beats and then she continued her trend of unexpected things that evening and stepped forward to wrap her arms around his waist, pressing her face to his wool coat – a coat, not a cloak – and bestowing her assurance of that statement in the form of a hug.

A second was all it took before his own arms were wrapped around her in return, and in that moment she felt safer than she had in years. It didn’t make any sense, why her former rival and tormentor would bring such security to her soul, but it was there all the same. It made her want to laugh and weep at the same time. She did neither, instead giving him a gentle squeeze before stepping back, her face still gleaming with tears, her smile barely formed for how hard her lips were trembling.

“Merry Christmas, Draco,” she managed in a broken voice before turning on her heel and scurrying back the way she’d come before he could say anything else. Anything more to make her question the choices she’d made and the truths she’d embraced that helped her put one foot in front of the other each day. By the time she got back to the flat she shared with Ron in Diagon, she had convinced herself she was content with the life she was living, and that she was happy her former classmate had found his own way in the world, where he seemed to truly be embracing change and moving forward in a positive direction.

_She envied him that._

Years passed in a haze of routine monotony that both comforted and suffocated, yet she didn’t know what else to do. Every time she thought to break away from the confines of her chosen life, another expectation was voiced, another request was made, another heartfelt plea was rendered, and so she stayed. But every year as December approached, she wondered where he was and what he was doing. Every year she thought about what he might have seen or done in his quest for self-betterment. And every year she returned to Covent Garden on the same night leading up to Christmas.

He never came back.

She and Ron drifted apart, not that anyone was really surprised. Their split was amicable, but it left yet another hole in her heart. She received two promotions at work, and while she was pleased with the acknowledgement of her abilities, it was a rather empty accomplishment. She watched as many of her friends married and started families, and though she was genuinely happy for each and every one of them, it only made her more wistful; only made the longing she felt more acute.

The fifth time she visited the tree, she told herself it would be the last. It was silly, she reasoned, to keep returning, to keep hoping, to keep holding onto something that wasn’t even anything to begin with. And yet, she knew that those few minutes she’d spent with him had made her feel more like herself – more grounded and secure – than she could ever remember feeling. Perhaps it was selfish, to want that again even if he had no idea the effect he’d had on her, but the desire was there nonetheless.

As she stood there, gazing up at the once-again-amazing tree, tears welled in her eyes when she thought about never coming back. Not that she couldn’t visit the public gardens anytime she wanted, but that she would never again return with the sole purpose of reconnecting with Draco Malfoy. She didn’t know why that thought made her soul feel like it was crumbling, or why it seemed like she was letting a lifelong dream die, but it was true. Tears were coursing fast and hot down her cold-pinked cheeks and she wanted nothing more than to crumple down in a heap on the snow and give in to her heart’s despair when she heard his voice.

“Hermione?”

She turned, and though her eyes were still filled, there was no mistaking the pale blonde wizard before her. A sob escaped and she clapped her mitten-covered hands over her mouth as her shoulders shook uncontrollably. He stepped closer, right into her space, and looked at her with such sincerity and concern it only caused her to sob harder. She buried her face entirely in her hands and felt his arms wrap around her, pulling her close. The dam burst and she cried harder than she had in years – cried for all the time lost, for all they had endured as children, for the mistakes she’d made along the way, for the missed opportunities, for how lonely and hopeless she felt, for all of it.

The whole time the storm raged, he simply held her, his cheek resting on the top of her head, his hands rubbing soothing lines up and down her back. When she’d finally calmed down, they pulled apart enough for her to meet his pewter stare.

“What brought you here?” It was the same question she’d asked him all those years ago, but this time there was a desperate need behind her words to know the reason.

His smile was shy and crooked, but filled her with warmth as he tucked a curl behind her ear, “Well, I realized I never got to tell you Merry Christmas last time.” He looked between her gold-flecked gaze and her lips in quick succession before bending down and pressing a gentle kiss to her slightly open mouth. Shock froze her for a beat, but then her brain kicked in and she responded with elated abandon, stretching up on her tiptoes and winding her arms around his neck.

After a bit, they broke apart and grinned at one another, not entirely sure what had happened or what had led them there, but knowing whatever came next would be shared between them. He draped his arm around her shoulders and nestled her into his side, where she happily remained as she gazed at the impressive tree, covered in thousands of twinkling lights, and she felt as if she’d not seen it properly before. A slow smile spread across her face as a spark of joy lit in her heart; it truly was a beautiful sight.

**_“Where are you, Christmas? Why can’t I find you? Why have you gone away? Where is the laughter you used to bring me? Why can’t I hear music play?” ~ Faith Hill_ **

**Author's Note:**

> It's December 1st, which means it's officially Christmastime, which means I can post this without feeling like a festive sap ;) This is a little more melancholy than most of mine, but this song got stuck in my head a few days ago and would not go away until I typed it all out. I know it's not actually a country song, but it's by Faith Hill, who is one of my all-time favorite country artists, so that's that. I hope you enjoy it and would love for you to check out the others in the series! <3


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